'Where have you parked?'
'Don't worry. Round the back. There's a pull-in between the hill and the house. No one will see!
She liked the fact that he understood her need for secrecy, that he didn't mock her for it. 'Come in, come in,' she said. Much as the old man had done, when he'd invited her and Catherine into Hillhead at New Year.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Fran thought, when she arrived home, that Sally had had a man in the house. There was an unfamiliar smell. Nothing unpleasant. Certainly he hadn't been smoking, she wouldn't have allowed that. Perhaps it was aftershave. Did young men wear aftershave these days? She didn't mind that Sally had invited a boy in it must be a nightmare to be young here, no privacy, everyone knowing your business - but she wished the girl had had the nerve to ask. She was quite entertained by the notion that she might act as a sort of fairy godmother. And she hoped they'd been discreet. It wouldn't do for Cassie to wander in when they were having full-blown sex on the sofa.
Fran wouldn't-have minded an early night with a large glass of whisky - she had a lot to think about but Sally didn't seem eager to go.
'Cassie was fine: she said. 'Not a peep. I stuck my head round the door once just to check she was OK. She's a lovely girl. You must be very proud!
. And just because of that, Fran found herself opening another bottle of wine and offering a glass to Sally and settling down to chat. Catherine had never said anything flattering about Cassie.
'Did you have a good evening?' Sally asked.
Her eyes were very bright as she looked over the rim of her glass, and Fran remembered suddenly and quite vividly what it had been like to be sixteen. The irrational mood swings between elation and despair, the sense that no one older could possibly understand the intensity, the passion, the terror. She realized that Sally was staring at her, waiting for an answer.
'Very good, thank you.' And then, because obviously more was required, 'Because I went to art school, they thought I'd be able to fill in for the teacher. It was OK. Some of the students were very good.'
'Oh yeah, right. Well, anytime. . .'
'Next week, same day.' Now Fran had had enough.
She fumbled in her purse for a ten-pound note. 'Will you be OK walking down the hill by yourself? I'd drive you back, but I can't leave Cassie. I'll lend you a torch and watch you down from here. Make sure you get in safely.
Or you can phone your dad for a lift if you like, 'if you think he'll still be awake.'
'I'll walk,' Sally said. 'I'm not sure about Dad. He had a late meeting in Scalloway, but that should have finished hours ago. And don't worry about me. We're all safe, aren't we, now they've got Magnus locked up?'
But Fran stood in the porch and watched her down the hill. She had never worried about Catherine and wondered why she was bothering now. As Sally had said, Magnus was locked up. She told herself that she had a right to be nervous. She'd discovered two bodies. Here, in Shetland, where she'd believed nothing bad could happen.
Anyone would be nervous.
It was a clear night and although the moon was thin, she could see Sally's silhouette until it was lost behind Hillhead. Then she followed the spark of the torch all the way down the bank, saw it swinging around the bend in the road in front of Euan's house and disappear into the school. She saw a light go on in the schoolhouse kitchen window and at last she turned to go back inside.
Cassie was standing in the doorway to her room.
She was white and shaking, still half asleep. Fran put her arm around her and led her back to bed. 'It's all right,' she said, over and over. 'Just a nightmare. It's all right.' She lay beside her daughter on the bed and waited until her breathing was easy and regular again.
The next morning Cassie showed no sign that the nightmare had upset her. When Fran mentioned it casually she seemed not to know what she was talking about. But some clue to its cause came on the way to school when they passed Hillhead.
'That's where the monster lived,' Cassie said. 'What do you mean?'
'The monster who likes to kill little girls.'
'Who told you about that?'
'Everyone. Everyone's talking about it at school.'
'Magnus lived there. You remember Magnus. He gave you sweeties (sometimes. The police think he killed Catherine. And a little girl called Catriona. He's an old man who's done terrible things. But he isn't a monster.'
Cassie seemed slightly confused. 'The police think Magnus killed Catherine?'
'Yes.'
'But Catherine wasn't a little girl.'
Fran was starting to feel out of her depth. 'You mustn't think about it.'
'But-'
'Really, you shouldn't worry about it. Magnus has been locked up. He can't hurt anyone any more!
In the schoolyard Fran wondered if she should have a word with Mrs Henry, explain about the nightmare, the stories which were being passed around. But she suspected that the teacher already had her down as an over-anxious and neurotic parent. It was probably best not to make a fuss, she thought. She'd be able to help Cassie deal with it herself. Besides, she was looking forward to a day of uninterrupted work. The image of the ravens in the snow was still potent, perhaps because of the tragedy with which it was now linked in her head. The fire of the rising sun, the brilliant white snow and the black ravens, had haunted her since she'd first seen it. The picture contained the elements of traditional fairy story and primitive sacrifice. She hoped she'd make it as strong on canvas as it was in her imagination.
As she turned to walk back up the hill, she saw Euan through the big glass window at the front of his house. He was standing, looking out. He was wearing his spectacles, and had a dishevelled look which gave him the air of an absent-minded professor from a children's book. She thought he was too preoccupied to notice her, but she must have penetrated his thoughts, because suddenly he waved wildly at her. She climbed the path to his door.
'Come in: he said. 'I was just taking a break. You'll have some coffee with me! His depression seemed to have lifted. Now he seemed overtaken by a sort of manic need for activity. Close to she saw his face was drawn and his eyes were red. He hadn't shaved. Perhaps he hadn't slept all night.
'Taking a break? Are you working?'
'I'm going through Catherine's things! 'Oh Euan, do you need to do that now?'
'Absolutely,' he said. 'It's vital. I've only stopped because I felt I was losing concentration. Besides, I promised Inspector Perez that I would. Come along. I'll pour you some coffee, then we'll go upstairs!
He led Fran along a corridor at the top of the house to the room where Catherine must have slept. It was square, unnaturally tidy, except for files arranged in heaps on the bed. One of the drawers of a small filing cabinet was open and empty. A plain white blind covered the window and he was working in the light of an anglepoise desk lamp. Fran felt uncomfortable there. It made her think of a room in a private hospital. A mental hospital perhaps, where the doors would be locked.
'Do you mind?' She pulled up the blind and let in the cold morning light. There was a view down to the school and beyond to the bay. She could make out Mrs Henry through the schoolroom window, but the children were out of her line of sight.